


The Aegis

by Einzel



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Happy Ending, Multi, Polyamory, Sousuke only has a minor part, but only a little naughtiness, there is a lot of seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7528066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einzel/pseuds/Einzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Free! regency AU where same-sex relationships and marriages are commonplace, wealth and title are still everything in society, and love finds a way - written in what I hope is a decent emulation of Jane Austen's style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I long fell in love with Austen's books, to the point where a lot of her turns and phrases are ingrained in my mind, and her elegant, clever style practically defines regency romance for me, so I wondered if I could emulate her style and write a Victorian romance of my own. Please consider this a tribute to one of my favorite authors, and enjoy the drama and romance! I chose Chigusa as the leading lady because I love her very much, and where Kyoani has given us very little, I decided to do as I pleased.
> 
> Also, to everyone who is worried about my update streak (you have every right): this work is complete, I promise! I will upload all three chapters a few days apart from each other, because the whole thing turned out too long to be a one-shot. Enjoy, and do tell me if you liked this story!

The air of the country sizzled with bird song, hot and fervent; Haruka hardly knew how to bear it. Having arrived late last night as he did, only the cry of cicadas accompanied his moonlit ride in the coach; but as soon as the sun pierced the tinted panes of his window at the great house, an entire choir broke into an oppressive glee in the nearest grove, until Haruka found himself quite awake, and his anxieties attending his return springing upon him with equal force.

Twenty and four years ago, he came into the world the first, and ultimately, the only child of the Nanase family, which boasted the entirety of Hurstbrook Park, as well as estates abroad which, by making fair returns year by year, ensured that Haruka would inherit pretty property, and an income large enough to be coveted anywhere. His situation would have satisfied many a young man who wished to be engaged in society, gaieties, and sport all year round, or desired the novelties of travel and employment. Haruka, however, happened to be the exact sort of young man to be vexed and fatigued by effort of any kind, and think little of wealth and consequence when all duties connected to it were so binding and tedious. From his earliest moments, he could not tolerate anything out of tune with his reserved nature, which inclined towards the arts, and longed for little else but to swim in the river from late spring till early autumn; nor could he be persuaded to endure for the sake of others, with one exception: the son of his father’s steward, Tachibana Makoto. The two had practically been brought up together from birth, united by a good understanding between their families, and tempers that seemed to compliment each other perfectly. Where nature had denied Haruka those social graces that allow men to recommend themselves easily to the world, and readily form connexions in any society, Makoto had received them in abundance, and with a sweet, obliging temper that desired to accommodate, to do justice by those he loved, and weathered all difficulties in cheerful tranquility, he often exercised his talents to promote Haruka’s interests without his having to speak two syllables to the purpose. In Haruka’s opinion, large dinners, parties, and balls were simply intolerable without the addition of his friend, who thus had the good fortune, despite his being but the son of an undistinguished gentleman, to be admitted into high society, and captivate many young ladies and men with his airs, for Haruka could only escape dancing by settling down at the pianoforte at the earliest possible moment, and Makoto could only justify his claiming the instrument for entire hours at a time by lending his voice to every piece.

Such were their ways from early childhood, and it should come as no surprise that two souls so alike, so fashioned to suit and comfort the other, produced a deep attachment over the years. Having spent many a holiday abroad, and been often parted from his parents while they tended to their West Indian estates, Haruka desired, above all else, constancy, and found none so constant as Makoto. He looked in every acquaintance for the sort of understanding that thrived on observation, rather than interrogation, and realized that none were so apt to perceive the slightest alterations in his mood or state as his closest friend, who could discern the unspoken, and act accordingly, without requiring any hint or supplication that he ought to employ himself for Haruka’s sake. Not that Makoto was a perfect being. No, Haruka had often teased his friend for those little faults which Makoto had never been able to keep in check: his officiousness, his proneness to anxiety over the most trivial matters, or how easily he started at the smallest noise or suggestion of danger. And yet these defects, which often exasperated Haruka, could do little to lessen Makoto’s charms. Whenever he attempted the impossible, which was to dwell on Makoto’s shortcomings until they lessened his friend’s merits, he found himself reminiscing of tender moments and pleasant surprises, or flushing at the thought that in all their acquaintance, he had never seen eyes so vibrant, or a countenance so decidedly handsome. Indeed, as soon as Haruka could turn his mind to the idea of marriage as a course he was strongly advised to take, he immediately fixed upon Makoto as his future partner.

Though Haruka had realized his feelings rather late, owing to a lifelong intimacy that made Makoto so much a part of his life as to render their attachment too natural to invite reflection, he imagined he would contend with no difficulties, and altogether would make a sensible and advantageous match. Though the station of Makoto’s family left much to be desired in high society, and could contribute little of consequence to the Nanase line, he was still the son of a gentleman, and from a family of good character. Moreover, as Makoto was an older brother, with a young boy and girl some ten years his juniors, Haruka was certain to secure a family with very little inconvenience or effort on his part. Where two men or women married, the successor was always a point of contention, but having spent a great deal of time educating and doting on Tachibana Ran and Tachibana Ren, Haruka was as certain of their being worthy heirs to the Nanase estates as any natural born child of his would have been.

However, in all these fair hopes, Haruka had been dreadfully mistaken. Far from his own family to have overlooked his attachment, as early as the first unconscious signs had emerged, his father was keenly put on his guard. Haruka had never been fond of gatherings, nor could he be prevailed upon to distinguish any young ladies or men with his attention, so long as Makoto was there; but in his absence, Haruka still behaved very much the same, except his ill humour was even more apparent, and no one could so much as tempt him to smile, let alone engage in meaningless tete-a-tete. His happiness evidently lay in a single quarter, but his father, who was anxious to see the fortune of his family continued within their preferred circles, instead of seeing it eventually relinquished to the younger children of his steward -  _Madness, absolute madness!_ -, took certain measures in the course of their growing up, as to render an engagement impossible. He could not object to Makoto’s character, to his being indispensable to Haruka, or to his being, in general, of great use and comfort to those connected to him. Therefore, he suggested to his steward that Makoto might come into a handsome living early in life, should his good nature incline towards the church as his profession. Tachibana, upon being met with such a generous offer, well beyond any claims they could have ever been entitled to, might not be faulted for readily accepting a future so secure for the eldest son, whom his younger brother and sister might ere long depend on; and having talked to Makoto at length, and Nanase-sama paying him a short visit to further his cause, Makoto was convinced by his late teens that it would be in his best interest to accept the proposal of the living, and, had he entertained any thoughts of rising in rank through marriage, to put them swiftly out of his mind, as evidently inferior to Haruka in birth, if excellent in anything else.

To Makoto’s infinite credit, he could not resent these communications, or those who had produced them. Having always perceived himself unequal to Haruka - for the idea had been impressed upon him early enough to be engraved in his mind -, he never dared think of anything like engagement. Though there were inevitable pangs on some occasions, as there must be when two young people feel so suited for mutual happiness, he had soon reconciled himself to loving Haruka with all his heart from a proper distance, to remaining his friend always, and thinking no more of the domestic and intimate felicity that could never be his. To act against Nanase-sama’s wishes and produce a breach between their families would have been his horror. His parents mortified, his younger siblings in danger of losing all chances of a good education and promotion in their chosen professions! Makoto would have soon been struck dead than allow any of his relations to suffer on his account. Moreover, his gentle nature inclined towards peaceful employment, and as Makoto did not protest, and shewed himself sensible as he ought to the very great compliment that the Nanase family paid to him, Nanase-sama graciously supported him at Cambridge, in the earnest hope that education might further improve Makoto’s mind, and render him, on the whole, infinitely more useful to his future parish.

Of his father’s designs, and of Makoto acquiescing to them so readily, Haruka had learned all too late. Both young men were on the verge of being released from university, seemingly free to establish themselves in the world, when Haruka could first bring himself to offer subtle hints of his wishes to Makoto, who humbly deflected them in fear of supposing too much where too little was said, and where he had been brought up to imagine he had no claims. Haruka thus applied to his father to have his word as proof, to then find himself presented with an arrangement so wholly fixed, and so decidedly against his desires, as to excite nothing but vexation and hatred. He argued and supplicated, listed all of Makoto’s good qualities, threatened never to marry if he could not have Makoto for a partner, but his father would brook no opposition. Though astonished that on this particular subject, he had heard his son talk and shout more than he had ever done so in this life, Nanase-sama remained immovable, in the hopes that another few years, spent in full possession of the wealth of Hurstbrook Park, might convince Haruka to value his position in life more highly, and to choose soberly in due time.

At the end of their displeasing interview, Haruka all but stormed out of his father’s room, injured and offended in every respect; and in such turbulent spirits as to leave him quite unable to judge his own actions with any clarity, had soon fallen into another trap. From his father, he had rushed straight to Makoto, and finding him earnestly approving of a plan Haruka thought abominable, and appearing to protest any idea of engagement, had proven too much for his friend to bear. Haruka lashed out instinctively, abusing Makoto to his face as he had never done before, then ran away from him, and on the slightest hint from his parents that certain interests of the family abroad should be surveyed and some business completed, Haruka volunteered at once to be dispatched in his father’s place. He had already begun to regret all that he had said to Makoto; but unable to face him, or continue in the presence of his father, was all too glad now to leave them for an indefinite period, and submit to his situation in growing wretchedness.

Two years passed in self-imposed exile, spent in solitude that admitted no relief, not with his heart so shattered, or a mind so addled by guilt and misery. France, and later the West Indies, had their charms and claims on Haruka’s interest, or rather, their lakes and rivers had, for he continued to swim for pleasure in his lonely hours; but though he had made a few acquaintances of consequence, none had inspired any regard, or could turn his mind from Makoto, who was ultimately ordained in his absence, and soon found himself in a situation that sealed his fate completely.

Haruka missed him beyond expression, but the desire to behold his friend once more was constantly tainted by fear; he could not even bring himself to send a note, let alone consider returning in the flesh. A few letters did arrive from Makoto over the years, one to France, and two to the West Indies, but Haruka dared not open them, lest he find reproach or worse, the complete lack of reproach when he so utterly deserved it. In this manner, he would have perhaps spent another year abroad, completely oblivious to Makoto’s general situation or the contents of those three letters, had it not been for the fact that his mother, an excellent correspondent herself, deigned it important to inform him at the beginning of summer that Makoto had recently married.

She received no reply. Two months had passed before any news reached the parents, which was to the effect that all business on the estates had been completed, and their son had boarded the first packet, to return to Hurstbrook Park by Michaelmas.

* * *

Following his ordination, Makoto took residence at the living in Whitefield. He was then unmarried, and his heart so empty as to make him glad to fill it with the joys and sorrows of his parishioners, and occupy himself beyond the means of dwelling on all that he had lost. In taking holy orders, he had at least pleased his family and the Nanases; and in entering his new abode, found himself in relative comfort, with a fresh place of interest to his family, who often called upon him to keep him company. This was all the consolation he could have, and it had to suffice. With some little pleasures to sustain him, and an entire parish to attend to, he soon became quite independent, composed heartfelt sermons, and was useful to all who came before him. However, where a parson does so much, more expectations are gradually heaped on his shoulders, so before long, Makoto was advised to set a good example of matrimony in his parish. He first resisted the idea, as it revived in him all former wretchedness; but within half a year, pressed by peculiar circumstances, he at last attached himself to Hanamura Chigusa, a good-humored girl who was ready to please him, and take the parsonage into her care.

Makoto’s feelings remained subdued after his marriage, for he was utterly convinced that he might never love again, or love so wholly as he ought. Nevertheless, with a heart and temper so well suited for domestic felicity, he forced himself into tolerable spirits soon enough, for he could not bear the idea of causing his wife pain, or neglecting her for anything in the world. If he felt unequal to be her ardent lover, he might still be her most intimate friend; and so they passed the first few months very agreeably, and turned their little cottage into a real home.

It was at the end of a Sunday service that Makoto first received the news of Haruka’s return, as related to him by Nanase-sama, who imagined his own son had been neglectful in his correspondence to more than just his intimate relations. At any rate, he thought it best to prepare Makoto so that he might receive the absent with great cordiality, and an earnest wish for Haruka’s future happiness that included him only to the extent that his current station permitted. Makoto thanked him for the intelligence, with as much composure as one could reasonably expect from a lover who had been grieving for so long; but at home his terror of Haruka’s arrival knew no bounds. He turned aloof and anxious; Chigusa could hardly get him to speak to her for a week straight, when at last, on Friday night, Makoto could contain himself no longer.

“He comes home tomorrow,” he said as he took his cup from the tray, the words spoken in a whisper as if in the hopes of never reaching his lady’s ears; but Chigusa was ready to listen, and alleviate his suffering as best she could, for seeing Makoto so out of spirits pained her beyond measure. The _he_ , she assumed, could only mean the childhood friend Makoto had so often described in their idle hours; and having heard nothing but good of the elusive and mysterious Haruka, and none of the sad business that had separated the two, Chigusa was predisposed to think her husband was simply too glad for his friend’s return to know his own happiness.

“How long has he been abroad?” she prompted, settling opposite him by the fire. Makoto’s eyes gleamed in the light.

“Two years.”

“Such a long absence! How delightful it must be for him to return at last… but you look so pale, my dear. You do not dread his return, surely?”

“I wonder if he… if he despises me,” said Makoto, little aware of how cryptic he sounded. “I sent him a few letters over the years, but received no reply, and now he shall soon be in my vicinity, and obliged to hear my sermons at least once a week. Will this be acceptable to him?”

“Why, to be sure it will!” replied Chigusa, to whom his anxiety seemed little more than his usual nonsense. “I know him not in person, but from what you tell me, he has always been fond of you, and distance and time are powerful agents, my dear. Even suppose he had been very vexed on his leave, though I see no reason he should have been, and managed to isolate himself perfectly, and amuse himself so completely as to forget you, to see you again on his return might rekindle the strongest feelings for you as his dearest friend.”

“Do not tease me, my dear. Pray, do not tease me.”

“Good heavens, no, my dear Tachibana! I do not tease you. I’ve always known you to be an excellent man. I see you blush, and out of humour with me, but hear me out. You are a gentleman of excellent character, who lends the cloth much distinction by being everything great and good that a clergyman can be. And though we are but friends in matrimony, you have been blameless in every respect, and I daresay you could not be more kind or attentive to me as a husband if you truly were in love.”

“I am glad I please you,” interrupted Makoto when he could no longer bear such genuine, artless praise. “If only I could please him, too, when he comes. I fear he might still be resentful, though I wish him everything but.”

Chigusa made a mental note to quiz him more thoroughly on that _still_ at another time. Her husband had never been in the habit of obfuscation, or vagueness in his discourse, but here allowances had to be made for his anxiety and doubts, which would not cease until things had taken their course. If Makoto had to wait two years, she would surely have patience enough for a few days, and so she excused him for the present with a good grace.

“Well, you shall see him on Sunday, and greet him very properly after the ceremony. Suppose you invited him to take tea with us, do you not think he would?”

“I… I dare not, though I should be very happy to have him.”

“Then by all means, invite him - you would not wish him to think himself unwanted?”

“No, no, that would never do,” owed Makoto. She nodded warmly.

“There, then you shall invite him. Even suppose he declined, though manners and civility should be in your favour, and oblige him to accept your invitation, it will be proof enough that he is welcome in our home. His father seems very well pleased with you. I am sure he would tell his son that it would be the properest thing in the world to accept you into his good graces again.”

Makoto’s laugh, though faint, brought with it a fragile smile.

“Thank you for your kind words, my dear,” he replied, his eyes falling to the fire. “May it all be as you say.”

“To be sure it will. Trust me, my dear, my sweet, my excellent Tachibana. Compose a happy sermon to honour his return, and all shall be well.”

* * *

Though Chigusa could not restore her husband’s spirits, or dismiss his worries on the subject of Haruka’s imminent return to the neighbourhood, she at least managed to remind Makoto of his duties by the Nanase family, and ignite a spark of hope in his heart that he might be, if only in public, cordially received by his friend. Most of Saturday was spent composing the sort of sermon his wife had in mind, and owing to his staying up so late to chisel his masterpiece, Makoto had the secret pleasure of watching a coach drive by their house towards Hurstbrook Park, the very one that conveyed his friend from London. Makoto’s chest tightened at the thought, but in standing silent watch by his window, he fancied himself as having welcomed Haruka earlier than anybody else, from the distance his father had always intended. These were the bittersweet thoughts that accompanied him to bed, where Chigusa pressed close to him, and combed her fingers through his hair in fond sympathy, until he fell asleep at last.

The next day brought the Nanase family to the church in Whitefield, where the two friends glimpsed each other for the first time: Makoto from his pulpit, and Haruka from the foremost pew. The former, though dressed plain and black, had grown a few inches, and with wide shoulders and a good figure, looked pleasing enough; while the latter had lost some weight, tanned considerably under the blazing sun, and became quite haggard in comparison. Some moments passed in silence when their eyes first met, each regarding the other in embarrassment, and thinking themselves inferior to what they must have previously appeared, but they need not have feared the other’s judgment so much. Haruka found himself lost in those large green eyes almost immediately, and Makoto beheld him in aching tenderness that longed to smooth away the black circles under Haruka’s eyes, and to coax a smile out of him at last. Having been so moved on the occasion, Makoto graced his audience with such a sermon as to make the ladies weep and the men to incline their heads in reverie, and when the organ played, sang so well as to sink the rest of the church into contented silence, Haruka included.

After the ceremony, Makoto stood by the entrance as usual, and it was there that he at last received first the father, then the mother, and at last, the son. Nanase-sama expressed his wish of returning to Hurstbrook Park, and his wife, having already taken his arm, seemed equally inclined to go; while Haruka lingered, made the awkward excuse of wishing to take a walk, and could not look Makoto in the eye until his parents had turned by the gate, and disappeared from sight.

“Haruka…” spoke Makoto, his voice trembling. His friend turned to him at last, hands fidgeting with his top hat. Makoto performed a bow.

“If it is your wish to walk, might I— Would you do me the honour of walking with me to the parsonage, and taking tea with us?”

Haruka shrank from such a foreign address. _Will you come and take tea with us?_ used to be Makoto’s way, and in comparison, Haruka preferred it.

“We might walk there,” he replied carefully, “but don’t trouble yourself with tea.”

“It would be no trouble to—”

“A _walk_ will suffice,” was Haruka’s curt answer, which, though in some degree colder than Chigusa’s predictions made it out to be, was not unwelcome. He consented to Makoto’s company; for the present, that was enough.

“Then, shall we walk round the parsonage?”

Haruka nodded; and after some hesitation, joined Makoto’s side, to be led around as the other pleased. Tea would have inevitably entailed meeting a third party, who, to the ill-informed Haruka, remained a stranger yet; and so he resolved to avoid her for as long as possible.

* * *

Their first attempts at tete-a-tete, which Makoto hoped would prepare the grounds for a discussion both arduous and terribly overdue, were largely unsuccessful. Makoto made some observation of the weather, and Haruka hummed; he supposed his friend had arrived late, and Haruka confirmed having passed the parsonage just after midnight. During all this, Haruka’s head was turned away, half in admiration of the shrubbery to their left, but supposing himself too repulsive to look at, and the walk itself a burden to Haruka, Makoto at last hazarded the question,

“Do you find me too much altered?”

Haruka hesitated. The other’s words prompted him to look, then to colour when their eyes met.

“You look the same as ever. Perhaps a little taller,” said Haruka, after another slight turn of the head. “Do not distress yourself about my good opinion. I am not displeased with your looks.”

“But you are displeased with me on other accounts,” risked Makoto, his brows arched so pitifully it almost made Haruka laugh in bitterness.

“You only acted as my tyrannical father obliged you to act for the sake of your family. It would be insensible to resent you for yielding to such high authority as you did.”

“But do you forgive me, for having done so?”

“...I forgive you.”

“But you frown.”

“Did you expect me to smile and bow? Were you always this insensible?”

“You know very well why I ask!” cried Makoto in indignation. Haruka pursed his lips, just barely able to keep his countenance.

“Do I indeed? Enlighten me, just to be sure.”

“Haruka…”

Makoto’s cheeks flushed. For a moment, his steps faltered.

“It would mortify me to carry on in your company in the conviction that I had wronged you beyond amendment, and am undeserving of your time. To owe the truth, I dreaded you coming home, and the idea of detecting the smallest hint of contempt in your eyes. I know you enjoy teasing me, and by Jove, I deserve it, but I implore you not to trifle with me now. Please say if you forgive me or not. I should be ashamed of tormenting you with my presence, if you cannot forgive me or take any pleasure in my company hereafter.”

“Makoto…” mumbled Haruka, his eyes clouding. A moment of silence followed, in which his lips at last softened from scowl to calm resignation.

“I forgive you. In fact, my feelings for you have not changed at all.”

A lively crimson crept over Makoto’s features, and Haruka felt it necessary to turn his eye again, lest Makoto’s radiance blind him.

“Besides... I owe you an apology myself,” continued Haruka, no longer so tongue-tied as he was at first, and all too glad to chastise himself for two years of neglect. “I should not have attacked you in that moment of weakness, and said all those things I still blush for whenever I remember them. In one respect, my father was right: you were too proper and modest to suppose yourself my equal, or act on any feelings you did not feel entitled to. I should have realized that, and been more active, and made my wishes known sooner, before anything about the living had been fixed. It does not grieve me to see you a clergyman; I know you dread the sea, despise violence, and have no mind for the law. To be the parson of a humble village does suit you. But now that you are also married, my regret on this score is infinite. I shall forever be wanting your companionship at Hurstbrook Park, and I am more sorry for it and all that I have done, and _not_ done, than you can imagine.”

Their eyes met. Haruka’s gleamed like broken glass. “Forgive me.”

“Haruka…!” cried Makoto, hardly knowing what to do with so much self-reproach, such grief as to admit no relief. Haruka appeared to him so desolate, so beyond comfort as to quite overpower him with the warmest sensations.

“You need not be wanting on my account!” he spoke next in choked passion. “You shall always be welcome at the parsonage, and it would make me the happiest of men to receive you as often as you wished to come, or walk to you as often as you wished me at Hurstbrook Park. Do come as often as you like to take tea with us, or dine at our table, or to spend the night, if you choose. We need not be apart, and I would not have you deprived in any respect.”

“And yet there is that _us_ , Makoto,” sighed Haruka with threadbare composure. “You are married, and I am a third, an unpleasant, undesirable third. That is the material point.”

“Do you really feel my marriage so threatening to a close friendship, Haruka?”

“Surely your wife wishes to have you to herself,” replied the other, thankful for the strong tan that concealed the rush of blood to his cheeks.

“She and I are friends, more than lovers,” offered Makoto, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he could marry without love, or that his chosen partner could be anything except deeply in love with all his good qualities and endearing faults.

“I wonder at that,” teased Haruka, no longer able to resist the habit. “Were I her, I would be at great pains to secure your attention at every turn, and shut out those who imposed on me.”

“My wife is too well employed for that,” laughed Makoto, though his tone lacked its usual gaiety. “She always finds some work or innocent pleasure to attend to, and owing to our circumstances, understands that I do not feel as a husband ought, but that I am disposed to forever treat her with the kindness and respect she ought to have as my wife. In return, she looks after the domestic economy, tends to our garden - do not laugh, but I am still afraid of bees -, and is my good friend and advisor where I do not trust my own judgment. We have, in short, married without love, and are making the best of it, though I often blush for us for having entered the marriage state like so. She would have deserved the love of a husband, which I feel unable to give.”

“Is not your kindness and respect a form of love?” countered Haruka. “Are your attentions and your attendance to her comfort not a manifestation of love, Makoto?”

“I… I do suppose they are. One could not do right by others and make them happy without something more than mere civility, and I am very fond of her.”

“Then she did marry for love, and secured the disinterested affections of a good and honourable companion. She must have every comfort in your character, and I envy her for it.”

“Still, I do wish you would come, and spend time with us, Haruka. It would give me the greatest pleasure if the two of us could be close again, and the three of us could be good friends, and spend many an evening together in comfort and harmony.”

“May it be so,” Haruka resigned himself, but to be ever so constant in his obstinacy, added with a solemn expression, “But only if I have time.”

“I hope you shall,” replied Makoto softly, so relieved in having proof of Haruka’s regard that he was now beyond the reach of provocation. “The parsonage is at your disposal.”

Some time passed in silence, until Haruka could at last bring himself to say,

“I might take tea with you tomorrow. In the afternoon, if you are at home.”

“Would you?!” cried Makoto, so in raptures Haruka almost regretted the offer, thinking himself now in very great danger of falling deeply in love again. “It would be the greatest pleasure to have you so soon..!”

Haruka nodded, then mumbled something in the affirmative before excusing himself in great haste to retire to Hurstbrook Park, where he spent the rest of the day in agony over whether he should like Makoto’s wife, and more importantly, whether Makoto’s wife should like him, or rightfully suspect him of wanting to be more than just a friend to Makoto. And not two hours after being in the presence of God! To think that a clergyman could so wholly make one forget his moral duties, when he was to prevent mischief by his conduct -  _poor Makoto!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The made up place names in the story come from the website [English Place Names](http://abarothsworld.com/Online%20Tools/English%20Place%20Names.php), which is a handy random name generator!


	2. II

True to his word, on the morrow, Haruka appeared at the parsonage, no less stiff than he had been the day before, but looking perhaps better rested, and inclined to make himself, if not pleasant, then at least not disagreeable to his hosts. Makoto walked down to the path as soon as he could spot the visitor from his window, and had the pleasure of escorting him to the house, where his wife soon received them in the drawing room with her brightest smile.

Chigusa, though suspecting little of the true attachment between the two, could not help but observe that Makoto had become more animated from that short walk after Sunday service than he had been in weeks, and for the rest of the afternoon, there was a nervous bumbling in his manner that made him altogether the dearest spectacle. He reminded her of young people upon their introduction at assemblies, both eager and anxious to prove themselves; and where the husband showed so much inclination to please, his wife could do no less than be his equal. Chigusa asked for his opinion and advice, then relayed his instructions to the cook, who promised smoked mackerel from the village, fresh butter, and hot scones to go with. As tea could want nothing else, Chigusa adorned her parlor with flowers, and when Haruka stepped inside, rose from her seat by the fireplace, performed a curtsey, then said to her guest,

“Nanase-san, how very kind of you to call! Welcome to the parsonage.”

She extended her hand, and Haruka took it gingerly, his lips just barely grazing her skin.

“I apologize for not calling on you yesterday,” he replied, having since been reproached by his parents for staying behind after the ceremony without the slightest intention of a call, no matter how short. (“A gentleman of good breeding must always observe decorum, and give no cause for censure on account of his conduct,” scolded his father, but even if he had received no lectures, Haruka would have eventually wondered if he had not hurt Makoto’s feelings by avoiding his wife as he did.) Chigusa, however, was determined from the start to take no offense.

“We both understood that you had but recently arrived, and might have still been too much fatigued by your journey.”

“Thank you,” replied Haruka, and at Makoto’s gesture, he sank into the nearest chair, while his friend settled on the sofa, and Chigusa rang the bell.

In some minutes, which were spent in polite inquiries and compliments, the maid produced several trays between them, with every good thing an afternoon tea might occasion. Haruka, who had some difficulties conversing, could now comfortably silence himself by eating and drinking; and Chigusa, who had been eager to make herself known to him, took the opportunity to speak, first of the pleasures of the parsonage that might serve to amuse Haruka on future visits, and then of her relations, who ran a shop in the nearest town. Makoto himself talked very little, offering only affirmation or praise, but whenever he did speak, his eyes sought Haruka’s in an earnest desire for his approval.

On the whole, the afternoon was spent tolerably, and finding nothing to frighten him away, Haruka, upon some kind entreaties, promised to call again some other time. At his renewed consent to their company, Makoto seemed completely restored to his former good spirits; and when Haruka parted, turned to his wife all smiles to say,

“Well, my dear, what do you think of him?”

Chigusa, silenced for a moment by the glow of her husband’s complexion, could not help but laugh at his eagerness to know her mind.

“Other than those alterations for which I must blame the hot weather of the West Indies, he appeared exactly as you described. He seems a very good sort of gentleman.”

Makoto gladly accepted the compliment.

“He talks too little in company,” he allowed with a small turn of the head, “but that is simply his nature. Perhaps when we are more comfortable among ourselves, and receive an invitation to Hurstbrook Park, you might hear him play.”

“Did you say he played the pianoforte?”

“Yes.”

“Good! I should be so glad to hear him play. I have been neglecting my harp, and ought to resume practice, to entertain you both on his next visit. If only the harp admitted your singing half so well as a pianoforte, we might make a very pretty duet.”

“Now you made me remember all those evenings I spent singing myself hoarse so that Haruka might be spared from dancing..! Now, do not smile like that, I entreat.”

“Oh, but I must smile at such indulgent folly. How many young ladies do you think you had prevented from showing off their accomplishments by allowing your friend to selfishly claim the principal instrument in the room? How many had been disappointed and put out by your well-meaning gallantries, pray?”

“A great deal too many, and I can only hope they forgave us upon hearing him play.”

“I’m more inclined to think they forgave you upon hearing _you sing._ ”

“I shall think nothing of such blatant flattery, my dear. You shall judge for yourself when you do hear him play.”

Chigusa nodded cheerfully.

“To hear you praise him so much must naturally recommend him to me. I shall gladly hear him play. Indeed, I should be glad to converse with him some other time, and know him better. One can only listen to you so much without wanting, at some point, to be engaging him directly.”

“Do I put myself too much forward?” asked Makoto, evidently embarrassed at himself. She placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“You endeavour to do him justice by talking in his stead, which is very good of you. I only mean that I should like to experience what I hear you talk of.”

“I see what you mean now,” replied Makoto with a soft smile. “I hope you shall.”

* * *

That night, after a long and dull dinner with his parents, certainly compared to the easy conversation of the parsonage, Haruka removed to his bed chamber directly, and from his last unpacked travel box, produced a parcel of letters tied with string. Having carefully undone the knot, he sorted them onto his writing desk, until from their general disorder arose two piles: opened letters from his parents, and three letters from Makoto with the seal still intact. These three were the true object of Haruka’s present inquiry, so at length he broke the seal of the first one, sent to France some months after his leave from Hurstbrook Park, and began to read it by candle light, his lips moving slightly at every turn.

_November 17, —._

_My dearest Haruka,_

_I should have written to you sooner - I hope you forgive me. I have long been informed of your leave by your father, and your address kindly provided so that I might write to you, but I had not the courage to do so until today, when I realized that this would be the first birthday that I must pass without you. I selfishly hope it might be the last; that you might be back again before the Christmas holidays. I would give anything in the world to see you at this moment, and to be allowed to make amends for all the suffering I have caused. Oh, Haruka! May God have care of you where I cannot reach, and bring you back to us safely before long._

_Anxiously awaiting your reply,_

_Yours ever,_

_Makoto_

Haruka slumped into his chair mortified. Not one, but two birthdays passed without his conveying the slightest regard! Poor Makoto! How much he must have suffered, completely undeserved… and two more letters still remained. With twitching fingers, Haruka set the first letter aside and broke the seal of the second, lifting it to the light.

_June 30, —._

_My dearest Haruka,_

_I fear my previous letter might have been lost. Be assured that I go on well, and send you my fondest love, and dearest wishes for your health and happiness on this blessed day._

Makoto had either been interrupted at this point and resumed writing at another time, or had been seized in some dreadful way, for his penmanship suffered much between this paragraph and the next. The first one suggested composure; the second, the complete loss of it.

_Haruka, I cannot help but beg for your forgiveness and speedy return. I think of you, and of the pain I had caused to you, every single day in your absence. Please tell me you might return soon; give only the slightest hint, and I shall rejoice. I would do anything in the world to see you safely at home again, and to be allowed into your company in whatever capacity, though it be the lowest and the last. I shall pray for your return every hour. May God have care of you._

_Yours ever,_

_Makoto_

Haruka’s hands now trembled so much, he nearly produced a tear in the last letter before the seal could be broken.

_May 15, —._

_My dearest Haruka,_

_I pray that this letter will reach you at last. I hope that you are well, and I continue as before to beg for your forgiveness, and wish for your safe return as much as ever._

_I had written you no letter upon my ordination, fearing it would have only distressed you, or brought back memories that I wish could be suppressed forever; but now I have something to tell you that, though it might give you uneasiness, and suggest a want of delicacy, earnestness, or constancy in my feelings for you, I would not have you hear from anyone else but me. Be not alarmed: I am well, and now established in Whitefield where, due to circumstances which I cannot bring myself to communicate by mere correspondence, I married a young lady from the village, by the name of Hanamura Chigusa. She and I are bound not by romantic love, not by those feelings that, I am convinced, shall always belong to another, but by a good understanding that makes us friends in matrimony, allies who had to make the best of their situation, and now only wish not to disgrace the marriage state, by showing others the conduct that must be the endeavour of all who desire conjugal felicity. Therefore, I hope that on your return, I might be allowed to relate those circumstances that had produced this arrangement, and be permitted to introduce my wife to you as my good friend and companion._

_In all of this, I strongly desire your approval, though I do not deserve it. I know I can have no more claims to your affections, now that mine have been legally engaged; yet what I feel for you has not altered in the slightest. Though I have made room in my heart for another, as human compassion and friendship dictated I must, the rest of that heart shall always beat for one whose return would be the completion of my happiness._

_Please return to us, Haruka. All I wish is to see you again. If I could have you smile again, or hear you play even once, I would desire nothing more in this world._

_Yours for ever,_

_Makoto_

One can only imagine what conflicting feelings these three letters excited in Haruka; how tenderly he pressed the pages to his bosom, and the solemnity with which he at last laid them into his uppermost drawer, to be treasured in his lonely hours. Oh, had he the courage to open the first letter as soon as it had come - abominable cowardice, to have let it remain sealed for so long! poor, dearest Makoto! -, he might have returned, if not by Christmas, then by Easter, and perhaps could have prevented the match so ambiguously described in the third letter…

Haruka could not help but wonder at Makoto’s words as he skimmed the letter again. _Circumstances, situation_ \- what did it all mean? Was it an arranged marriage? Had his friend been imposed upon, but had not the means of communicating this to Haruka himself? It was a most frightful mystery. Makoto spoke of his wife with peculiar regard, and looked at ease in her company at tea, and Haruka knew him to be incapable of falsehood, but what then? It made matters not clearer, but more muddled at present.

He quizzed the curves and arches of Makoto’s lines for a little longer, but they suggested no satisfactory answer, so Haruka soon retired to bed, where his final thought was that, for Makoto’s sake, he had to exert himself on this occasion, and become better acquainted with the lady, preferably in her husband’s absence. Makoto would only excuse her - heaven knows how often he had excused Haruka himself, and given all but ten minutes, might have talked away all of Haruka’s deficiencies in the earnest belief he was true to the original -, but Haruka cared not for excuses. He desired nothing more than her account of the proposal, and her opinion of Makoto, and was ready, as soon as may be, to roam the shrubbery for any chance of finding her alone.

* * *

Fortunately for Haruka, though he might, at another time, frown at such good fortune, Makoto proved to be a much solicited clergyman. He was often called on to attend invalids; to settle small matters where the assistance of an attorney would have been excessive, not to mention expensive; and just as frequently, to be an agreeable addition to tea or dinner. In such pleasures and kind attentions, his wife was always included; but where there was only business, Makoto would go himself, and leave her to manage the household in his absence. Indeed, the very day following Haruka’s first taking tea with them, Makoto was obliged to go into town; and Haruka had not turned above twice in the shrubbery before Tachibana Chigusa approached him from the house, having caught sight of him from the parlour.

“Why, Nanase-san!” she exclaimed, all pleasant surprise, and presently performed a curtsey. He bowed. “Good day to you - it is good to see you back again so soon, though I’m afraid you find me all alone to-day. My husband left this morning on a matter of business, and I do not expect him back until dinner.”

“Thank you, madam,” replied Haruka, his hands clasped behind his back. “To speak truth, I hoped to find you alone.”

Chigusa looked surprised, but Haruka could trace no alarm in her features. Above all else, she looked curious and eager.

“Then only tell me if you preferred to be indoors or out at this time,” replied she with an obliging smile, “so that I might ring the bell, or fetch my shawl.”

“Outdoors, if you please,” said Haruka, then walked her back to the entrance of the parsonage, where he waited in solitary reverie until she reappeared with a shawl around her shoulders, one that matched the colour of her eyes. If Makoto’s were a sunlit meadow, hers was an ancient forest, dark and alluring. They were both made of earth, and Haruka was water, with dark blue eyes that pooled in unfathomable depths.

“There, I am presently armed for anything but rain,” she declared in cheerful triumph. “Now, how may I be of service to you, Nanase-san?”

Haruka, after a moment of silence, and a turn of the head, quietly answered,

“If you could relate your mutual history to me, I would be very grateful.”

“Our mutual history?” she echoed, not so much startled as confused as to where the beginning of such a history might be marked. Haruka flushed.

“The circumstances under which the two of you had met, became engaged, and married. I had no opportunity yet to hear Makoto’s account, but at present am more interested in yours.”

Chigusa’s expression sobered a great deal, which frightened Haruka; but after a little while, having withdrawn further from the gardens and any servants that might thirst for gossip, her features relaxed, and her serenity returned.

“Very well, Nanase-san,” she said with a bow of her head, and so spent above an hour acquainting him with their history, which was to this effect:

Chigusa first met him some months after his ordination, in the spring of the previous year. Makoto had not been long established in Whitefield before the Hanamuras were obliged to retrench to the country from London, on account of her father’s struggling business and her mother’s poor health, to which a change of air and society seemed favourable. The mother, more pious than the rest of her family, and much too delicate to attend service every Sunday, desired that the parson might see her, if not on Sunday, then on some other day of every week, to render her private service, and to lift her spirits. To this Makoto consented most readily, and from that time forward, was their guest every Monday, when his Sunday sermon still fresh on his mind, could recite it tolerably to Hanamura-san, and put her in good humour for the rest of the week. To thank Makoto, and to compensate him for his troubles, Chigusa’s father soon made him the offer of dining with them every Monday after his private service, which Makoto, after some modest objections, gratefully accepted. In this manner, Chigusa herself soon came to know him by degrees; for she often found herself perched by her mother’s bed to hear his kind lectures, and then found a great deal of pleasure in their conversations at the dinner table.

In all this, she enjoyed her parents’ approval, who secretly began to entertain the idea of his marrying her. “To owe the truth, I soon began to desire his solicitude myself.” Makoto himself had never encouraged their fancies beyond his approval of any compliment that praised Chigusa’s good qualities, and his listening to her harp with pleasure; but where such an agreeable man might appear, it can be no wonder that so many might try to secure him, though he often appeared beyond their reach.

Some months later, Makoto received a visit from Nanase-sama, who advised him to marry, and marry properly. This she did not know at the time, and discovered only in retrospect, but its immediate effects were keenly felt, and in hindsight, made better sense. He became more taciturn, more anxious in company; could no longer converse with her without turning his eyes away, as if in shame; and could no longer be supplicated to stay longer, not even to hear her harp. She was by no means the only young woman he had most unconsciously offended by appearing so awkwardly before them; but having known him, in that year of his belonging to the Hanamura family every Monday, better than the rest, Chigusa was more pained by his manner, and wished to comfort him, without knowing how to cure a condition that he so decidedly attempted to conceal.

In this manner, they might have eventually become no more than common acquaintances; but next spring, a man from Town appeared in the village, who had an ill reputation in the neighbourhood on account of his business and general manners, and whose sole object in condescending to them was to find himself a young and pretty wife. Chigusa’s father had the misfortune of being one of his business partners, one most cruelly cheated by him; yet he appeared before them as readily as if no wrongdoing had ever taken place, and inquired after the eldest daughter, who of course could no more tolerate the proposal than her father. The unwanted suitor was not offended by such resistance, however; he even countered it with veiled threats that nearly broke the father’s heart, and sent the mother into hysterics. Chigusa herself was vexed and distraught, for the man was rich, and powerful enough to pursue his own interest at the expense of everybody else’s, so in her desperation, she applied to Makoto to help calm her mother’s anxiety, and dissuade the man from his object as a respected member of the clergy.

Chigusa hardly dared hope that Makoto might be of assistance to her, when his own troubles seemed so great; but he displayed to her such warmth of regard, such good will and every promise of exerting his power, as to raise Chigusa’s hopes of there being a fine conclusion to her present predicament. If she could not have the best of men, she might at least be spared for the worst; and so Makoto entered into some lengthy and unpleasant negotiations on her family’s behalf, with little success. He appealed to the gentleman’s good judgment, to his sensibility of his age and character not to choose a wife some thirty years his junior, or seek connexions where he had injured so many, but the gentleman would not yield. Now feeling desperate himself, Makoto turned to Hurstbrook Park, to beg the family’s interference as people of great authority in the county. This, he later told her, Nanase-sama consented to, with the pointed suggestion that if Makoto was so adamant to champion the young lady’s cause as her being deserving of the highest regard, he might as well heed his superior’s advice on matrimony, and engage her to give everything its proper conclusion. ( _A greater tyrant had never lived_ , seethed Haruka. _Poor Makoto! How mortified he must have been!_ )

And so, within a few days of this final consultation, Makoto called upon the Hanamura family unexpectedly, and with the greatest respect, and all reassurances of their family’s safety thereafter, asked for Chigusa’s hand in marriage. Her father immediately consented; her mother rejoiced; her younger sisters envied her with all their little hearts; and Chigusa accepted the proposal in tears, for she had never intended to pressure Makoto into marriage, but had inevitably done so by pleading his involvement. Within a week, the unwanted suitor left the county, having been warned that the Nanases did not wish him their neighbour or acquaintance in any respect; and following the Easter holidays, Makoto and Chigusa were married in the parish. To honour the occasion, the Nanases made them handsome presents, and assured Chigusa’s father of there being some means to promote his own interests, and restore the reputation of his business, which was at least some consolation to Makoto.

“He told me on our wedding night that he felt quite unable to render me all those services and pleasures that I had every right to expect in a husband,” she concluded her tale, “but that he would always do his utmost to promote my comfort and happiness, and I promised him I should do the same. Since then, we have been rather quietly and innocently employed to appear in every respect a happy couple, and among ourselves, two friends at ease.”

“So in short, it was an arranged marriage, by my father’s hand…” mused Haruka, quite detesting him despite all that he had done to be charitable after the fact, and give no cause for complaints elsewhere. “And how do you like it?”

“I am quite content,” replied Chigusa with softened looks. “I do sometimes wish— but to speak it would be impropriety. You must excuse me. Let me only say that I have never known a man so good, so amiable, and so attentive as he. If my younger sisters could, in their own time, marry half so well, I would rejoice, for in London, I had occasion to observe the various evils of an unhappy marriage often enough. I am fully aware of my great fortune.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Haruka managed to say, jealousy pooling in his chest. “I trust you take good care of him.”

“I do my best,” replied Chigusa, “though I sometimes wish I could more fully enter his feelings.”

She paused. “Nanase-san..?”

Haruka hummed, his eyes falling on the path.

“I shall not press you for _your_ mutual history, for I understand it to be exceedingly long,” began Chigusa in a cautious tone that gradually swelled with determination, “but suppose you told me why my husband appeared to think that you had any cause, on your return, to avoid and resent him, I would be much obliged.”

Haruka flushed and turned his head.

“What did he tell you?”

“Too little to make any sense of, but enough to convince me he felt absolutely miserable, and guilty in some great offense that, given his character, I cannot even hazard to guess at. What could a gentle soul like him possibly do to deserve contempt? Pray enlighten me, though you must think me impertinent for urging you so. I ask only that I might understand him better, and give him greater comfort in his troubled hours.”

Haruka still hesitated, though the entreaty could not have been more proper, considering the object.

“Suppose I distressed you with the truth,” he said, finally looking her in the eye, “could you bear it, and could you still treasure him?”

“If _you_ think he is worthy of being treasured, then his crime could be no worse than an unfortunate misunderstanding. I am perfectly convinced that you can have nothing to say that would in any way frighten me, or endanger my happiness. I have always been more concerned with his, since my own is so secured.”

“Then it should please you, at the very least, to know that the crime is entirely my own, and my father’s.”

Chigusa blinked. Haruka turned his eyes to the sky.

“Do not breathe a word of this to another soul. It would only cause him pain,” he said gravely. Chigusa inclined her head. “If Makoto had any blame in the affair, it was that he loved his family too dearly to endanger their reputation and good fortune, by doing anything that went against my father’s wishes. I… I desired his hand in marriage, having known and loved him all my life, and being certain of his affections for me; but my father opposed it for his being no more than the son of his steward, so he took measures to make Makoto as ineligible as he could without doing a disservice to the Tachibanas, whom he held in high esteem for the fair and just management of his estates. By his design, Makoto was ordained, and became a clergyman; and while I dawdled abroad, feeling wretched, and incapable of facing Makoto, he was pressured into marriage to another. ...No, no, do not distress yourself,” he paused when she twitched, one hand lightly touching Chigusa’s arm. “I do not blame you. I blame my father for not offering his protection without first demanding so great a price. His intention must have been to complete his earlier design. Now that Makoto is married, I am indeed perfectly powerless to pursue him.”

“Good heaven,” breathed Chigusa, evidently bewildered. “Upon my word..! But still I do not understand— If my husband had done no wrong, then why? Why was he so convinced you must hate him?”

“Because…”

Haruka could hardly speak from the lump in his throat.

“Because, after I discovered my father’s machinations, I was completely undone by fury, and hatred, and in such a state, I said a great many things to Makoto that he did not deserve. In my heart of hearts, I wished he had opposed my father’s schemes, but he was afraid for his family. No good could have come of his obstinacy or opposition, but my pride was injured, and I could not rightfully consider his situation. He begged my forbearance, and offered himself to me mind and soul, as his friend and friend _only_ , and I could not bear it; I wanted _everything._ Then, after fleeing the country as soon as I had reason to leave it, for I was unable to face him after all that I had said, I ignored all his letters for fear that his feelings had died an early death. He must have suffered so much, not knowing why I would not write, but I was a coward; I was afraid.”

Chigusa, completely overwhelmed, remained silent except for some quickness of breath, and the storm raging in those dark green eyes. Haruka lowered his head.

“There, you now know the whole business. If you must blame someone, please blame me, and absolve him entirely. He had done nothing wrong.”

“Good heaven…” repeated Chigusa, one hand now pressed to her bosom as if that gentle hand could stifle the furious beat of her heart. “My poor dear Tachibana..! For all his trouble to spring from such a source!”

Silence fell between them. At long last, Chigusa spoke again.

“And yet, it explains everything so perfectly. His anxiety and wretchedness upon being pressured to marry, and his feeling incapable of loving me so wholly as he ought...”

Haruka clenched his jaw, his every instinct urging him to fly, yet he had been running away too long. It would not do, not anymore.

“You must despise me,” he murmured, avoiding her eyes.

“No…” whispered Chigusa, her own features hardening. “I am sorry to say that I pity you instead, and fear that you have greater cause to despise _me_.”

“I do not,” Haruka reassured her, embarrassed by her words, but more conscious of her apprehension. “You take good care of him, and cherish him as you ought. I am glad that he could marry so well under pressure. It would have grieved me to see him attached to someone who did not love him.”

“I am disposed to think that impossible,” said Chigusa, evidently meaning to jest, though her voice shook, and her hand trembled on her shawl. “Wherever he is known, he must be loved and valued. I do not think I could love him more if he _could_ return my affections.”

She paused. His expression seemed to entreat.

“I’m very sorry, Nanase-san,” she said at last. “I feel we have all been ill-used in this business. You cannot have him, I cannot have him completely, and he cannot do justice to either of us in this state. What strange misery! One hardly knows what to do or make of it.”

“I do not suppose you would consent to a divorce,” hazarded Haruka, trying for a playful smile, though the smile ached, and she naturally shook her pretty head at once.

“Absolutely not,” replied Chigusa, a little too sternly, though she smiled herself. “I shall never find another man so worth having. It would also damage his reputation, and give displeasure to all our dear family. No, Nanase-san, I cannot release him to be hurt and ridiculed.”

“Then, what is to be done?” asked Haruka, evidently anxious for her verdict. Chigusa hummed.

“There is but one thing to be done,” she replied after some consideration, “and it is for the three of us to make the best of our lot. I suppose we are now three friends together, if I may be so bold as to claim you my friend. I should not be sorry to receive you here very often, so long as you were kind to me, and attentive to my husband. The glow of his countenance when he speaks of you, or looks at you, is very pleasing. I have always known him to have a great deal of feeling, but their brilliance has never been more felt than in your presence, or your presence in his thoughts. If it is out of my power to excite such tender reactions, I should at least be allowed to admire them, and share in his pleasures.”

“You are kindness and liberality itself, ma’am,” whispered Haruka. He reached for, and kissed her hand of his own volition.

“I am but a poor sufferer,” replied she, taking his arm next, for their conference had fatigued her greatly, “who would rather share her meagre joys than be selfish in her despair.”

“An excellent principle.”

“May _he_ also find it so,” laughed Chigusa. “He reproaches himself so often... Self-reflection is important, of course, and very proper in a clergyman, but I would rather he smiled and laughed, and enjoyed himself more.”

“I hope he shall,” agreed Haruka, who soon escorted her back to the house, where he left her with the kind promise of an invitation to Hurstbrook Park within a few days’ time, in the hopes of giving pleasure to her as well as Makoto.

* * *

The man himself managed to conclude his business in town, and arrive back to Whitefield in the evening, to be received very warmly by his wife, and informed of his dinner engagement at Hurstbrook Park on Saturday.

“That is excellent news!” exclaimed Makoto, his smile speaking of genuine satisfaction. “How very kind..! I do believe we have not been to the great house since June, when we returned from Lyme. But to whom do we owe the pleasure?” he asked at last, conscious of there being at least two eligible members of the family, if not three, to issue such an invitation. She just barely checked her laugh.

“It is your Nanase-san, of course,” she teased, not unkindly, but that _your_ seemed to have startled Makoto to no small degree. He stammered his gratitude, then fell silent, and had he not been gently urged to eat all evening, might have picked at his plate, and gone to bed starving.

While the servants were about, Chigusa did not attempt to clarify her meaning; but when they had at last donned their night gowns and retired to bed, perfectly safe from prying eyes and idle ears, she embraced and kissed him, received a kiss in return, and at last proceeded to alleviate his guilty conscience.

“I received a surprise visit from Nanase-san today,” she began, eyes locked into his. Makoto averted his gaze, but only for a moment.

“Have you? ...Was it a pleasant visit, my dear?”

“We had an agreeable walk in the shrubbery, where we talked a great deal, he as well as I.”

“Oh..? I am glad. You did say you wished to talk to him more. I’m happy you got your wish so soon. And what did you talk of?”

“I talked of me, he talked of himself... and both of us talked a great while about you.”

Makoto swallowed. Her hand, no longer idle, caressed his arm with unbearable tenderness.

“You seem pale. Should you be afraid to hear what we said?” asked Chigusa, now with more concern than playfulness. She often teased him to lighten his mood, and shake him out of his gravity, but such manoeuvres seemed doomed to failure on the subject of Nanase Haruka. Opposite her, Makoto screwed his eyes shut and curled into himself, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. Did she suspect him? Did she _hate_ him? He surely deserved it, but it would have been his ruin, to be deprived as well as loathed for the remainder of his days.

“Pray don’t tease me. _Not like this,_ ” he begged, a faint, desperate plea that pierced his wife’s heart, and put an end to all her gaiety.

“We only talked of how much we both love you,” Chigusa whispered to him, kissing his brow. His eyes remained closed, even when her hand left his arm to touch his cheek. “My poor Tachibana. How much you must have suffered…”

At those words, that tender address, and what appeared to be genuine pity on her side, he lifted his head, eyes wide and clouded. So stripped of all pretence, of all effort to appear fine on the outside, she could not but feel her heart bleed for him.

“You had been longing for him all this time, haven’t you..?”

Makoto shook his head violently, shrinking from being laid so bare before her, but she pressed closer, entwined her legs around his, and pressed his head to her chest. One of his arms draped over her side, clinging feverishly to her back. Her vision blurred as his first tears and hot breath burned her skin.

“You shall have him again,” she murmured, her fingers buried in his hair. “You shall have him as much as possible. We shall invite him often, and make the best of this.”

He could not speak, but the hard squeeze of his arm sufficed for an answer. What raw power surged within! Chigusa would have sometimes given anything to savour it in all its ardent glory. And perhaps she _might_ , she thought in tremors, if he could be pacified, and made comfortable at last. Undone as she felt, parched and aching in the most delightful way, she briefly wondered if Nanase Haruka shared her fantasies. One was forced to pine at a great distance, and the other to yearn in the very presence of that same dear object; by heaven, which was _worse?_

Makoto’s breathing had been hoarse and quick for some time, but at length seemed to abate as exhaustion claimed him. She could feel him, if not relax, then give out on her side, and so conscious of his languor, her own emotions could at last be tranquilized.

“Rest now,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “Shall I sing to you?”

He nodded against her, his locks tickling her throat. She combed those rogue tufts into place, kissed his head again, then hummed a gentle melody, until at long last, Makoto’s embrace softened as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He stirred awake at dawn, and as soon as he regained consciousness, he attempted to detach himself from her arms as gingerly as possible, but she had anticipated him.

“Do not leave yet, I pray you,” she pleaded, and he obeyed, reluctant though he seemed to revive the confessions of last night. Chigusa could well imagine his anxiety; but she could not release him to suppress it again and be miserable by his own design. “I must know your mind, your wishes, or there shall be more evil and wrong in the business than joy or pleasure. _Speak._ ”

“I cannot. How could I—” whispered Makoto, vulnerable, mortified, and yet she persisted, her hand settling on his cheek again. He inclined his head in shame. “I have never, to anyone—”

“Not even him?”

He shook his head. She kissed his temple.

“Then let me be your confidant.”

“I am afraid, so afraid,” he mumbled, his own hands pressed to his face. “I feel like a sinner on his knees in the confessional, ashamed of his supernumerary crimes, and dreading the astonishment of the priest on the other side. And to think I am ordinarily that very priest! I cannot bear to think how much I must disappoint my maker.”

“Be still, my dear. This will not do, though I see that I cannot but distress you. Then, answer only this: would his company make you happy?”

He nodded so fervently the sheets rustled against his cheek. She kissed him again.

“Then we shall see him soon. You may be sure we shall see him soon, and often.”

At length, he lowered his hands to expose his face, lifting a hand to her shoulder next and squeezing it with pained tenderness.

“But what about you?” he urged, eyes wide in concern. “How would _you_ feel about all this? You often speak of wishing me happy - but would _you_ be happy if my attentions became so divided?”

She smiled despite herself, a sweet flutter stirring in her stomach.

“You care about me; of that I am certain. You care as deeply as I could wish, all things considered. _I already am happy_. I have not been brought up to know restraint, and longing, and the idea of forever wanting the impossible, as you have. Nor do I feel the usual jealousy of lovers, though it should do me credit here. We did not marry for love: we married for safety. I had long reconciled myself to that, and yet love still thrives between us. I will gladly share it, when there is such abundance, and I daresay I shall have my pleasures in turn.”

“Do you not think it all... wrong, somehow?”

“Do _you?_ ”

“I… I hope it is not. I confess, I hardly know myself at this moment. All I know is that I would give anything to be allowed to love and dote on you both.”

“There, you said it at last: I am content,” said she in relief. “What a piece of work you’ve made of it! You and Nanase-san are too much alike in some points.”

“What are you saying?” he cried indignantly, and she could now laugh at him in earnest.

“I had to tell him my whole history with you, all the principal events of at least eighteen months, before he confessed but a small part of his own. Upon my word, I was on the verge of exhaustion by the time he had asked if I might divorce you for his sake!”

“ _He did not…!_ ”

“He did, my dear, he did, but I did not consent. I would not have you exposed to speculation or cruelty. Henceforth, the marriage state shall be your shield. And besides, I would never find a man like you again. You set the bar too high, and now I cannot ever settle for less.”

“There you go again, teasing me mercilessly,” muttered Makoto, though he now seemed in better spirits, and no longer so pale. Chigusa pressed a hand to his cheek. Makoto ran his fingers through her hair.

“I believe you shall be teased twofold hereafter,” she remarked with a giggle. “How shall you like it?”

Makoto flushed, and mumbled something she scarcely understood, but the fond urgency of his embrace spoke volumes, as eloquently as Chigusa could desire.


	3. III

At Hurstbrook Park, Nanase-sama’s allowance of a few days’ rest and liberty for his son were soon at an end; once Haruka had been restored as a resident of the great house, he was obliged once more to accompany his parents in society. This, to Haruka, remained an odious task; but harbouring such happy prospects as he did of the Tachibanas, he could tolerably submit to his father’s wishes, and be a most dull and stoic addition at dinners and assemblies, or a moderately interested onlooker at negotiations. Moreover, his absence in the next three days, though somewhat bittersweet, had its benevolent effects. With enough time to prepare himself, properly consult his own feelings, make his pleas and amends to God, and receive again and again the approval and blessing of his wife, Makoto could at last work his mind into tolerable equanimity; while Chigusa now practiced on her harp, and scrutinized their gardens and quarters with plans of minor improvements, to make them more suited and desirable for their purpose. Nothing so splendid as to invite attention or engender unfavourable rumours; at present, she desired but a thorough cleaning of the house, some rearrangement of the furniture, and a bit of landscaping to make better use of the place, and heighten its modest charms.

On Saturday, the three of them were at last assembled for dinner at Hurstbrook Park. Haruka, under the guise of a short evening walk, intercepted them at the gate, then walked the honoured couple to the house all smiles, subtle though they were; and Chigusa could not help but notice how much the air of the country, and the idea of their secret confederacy had done to improve his looks. Though shorter than her husband, he was well-made; his figure was neat, his countenance unaffected, and those hard blue eyes much softened since she had last seen them. All in all, Haruka appeared handsome and agreeable, and Chigusa was quite prepared to fall at least a little in love with him.

To Nanase-sama’s credit, he suspected no gross violations of duty or respect on either side; having so successfully arranged Makoto’s future, he could not suppose his own son to want to destroy it, or his friend to do anything to disgrace his profession, and upset his lady. Furthermore, the ease of manner between the two men, their conversation flowing as naturally as it always had, and both distinguishing Tachibana Chigusa with peculiar cordiality, impressed him in the fullest belief of Haruka and Makoto’s indifference as lovers, and their complete reconciliation as friends. Had Makoto ever come alone to seek private counsel in the great house, or neglected his profession or partner in any respect, he would have revived all anxiety and discomfort in the father; but true to her word, Chigusa had become their aegis. In her company, as long as she was dutifully attended to, Makoto could exert all his powers of pleasing without suspicion; and Haruka could be pleasing in his own reserved way, in a manner that appeared the very image of noble condescension to his parents. During that first fateful dinner at Hurstbrook Park, the elders were also forced to recollect that the young men had not played or sung together in the music room for several years, and so were delighted to have this indulgence at last; and while it gave Makoto and Haruka tender, familiar sensations to be so united, Chigusa derived her own enjoyment from a genius performance, and a clear and pleasant singing voice unspoilt by instruction. Such elegant amusements were, of course, to be encouraged; good taste could not but demand their repetition at intervals, and so the dinner invitation was graciously renewed for the following week, and with occasional adjustments of the date as made necessary by Nanase-sama’s engagements, had become a regular thing by the winter holidays.

The rapid progression of the season, from a tolerable autumn to a harsh and prolonged winter, also proved favourable in its own way. From the gloom and desolation of the open country, brought on by winter gales and roads laden with snow within the first days of December, all the principal figures of the neighbourhood immediately fled to their houses in London, Bath, or Brighton. The mistress of Hurstbrook Park herself wished for Bath in particular; her husband, an enthusiast of concerts and recitals, was eager to oblige her; while the son expressed his earnest desire to remain at the great house until the summer. Having spent so long a period abroad, his disinclination for travel, and his longing for the comfort of home, seemed rather natural to his parents; and as the Christmas holidays, and winter in general, was a difficult and active period for Makoto, they were fully convinced that Haruka would not be able to see his friend above once a week for the next three months. Though they no longer suspected either of mischief, they did fear that Haruka might relapse into his old habit of attaching himself to his only friend, and disregarding everyone else. Without the Tachibanas having easy access to the park in heavy snow, however, and the parson himself often called away to invalids and sufferers, of which there was always an excess in winter, they hoped that Haruka would ultimately be forced to admit the company of families who did stay behind.

In this, they made a few miscalculations. They could generally prevail on Haruka’s abhorrence of having to exert himself, which suggested he would leave Hurstbrook Park rarely, if at all; but as Haruka now commanded the stables, and all but one of his family’s carriages, he simply had one of them fitted up, and sent for the Tachibanas whenever they could be spared from the parsonage. Moreover, the calls from persistent neighbours, which had given Nanase-sama such sanguine hopes for the improvement of his son’s society, were at last forthcoming in January; but as invitations to dinners or assemblies usually comprehended the local parson and his wife, who were known to be respectable, agreeable people not unconnected with Hurstbrook Park, Haruka was frequently spared from that loathsome task of conversing with strangers, or courting old acquaintances for too long.

That winter, every exercise in patience, every duty and engagement carried with it the sweet promise of reward; and in the course of these arrangements, the feelings and relations of the three lovers advanced marvellously. Having been reconciled to the idea of having as full possession of Makoto as their altered situation could permit, and in all this being infinitely grateful to Chigusa, Haruka’s conversation increased, his manners refined, and his familiarity with the lady, whom he had once wished to anxiously avoid, gradually developed into an agreeable friendship. Makoto, who observed these changes with pleasure, and no longer felt so ashamed of, or prevented in bestowing his affections, remained true to his word, and now doted on both of his companions as well, if not better, than before. As for Chigusa herself, far from succumbing to throes of jealousy, or experiencing any regret in the schemes and opportunities she had contrived, she now enjoyed the courtship of two amiable gentlemen instead of one, whose delicacy of manners, good principles, and strong desire to honour her sacrifices soon made her very much in love with both. Makoto was her favourite; no one could shake so profound and just a preference for her husband; but Haruka would not have had it any other way.

The three lovers thus passed a pleasant winter full of lively conversation, music, singing, and other innocent enjoyments indoors; and as soon as nature shed its cloak of snow and exchanged it for the verdant greens of spring, they added to these pleasures several more. All three being excellent walkers, they now wound about the groves, avenues, and shrubberies of the park on warmer days; and with the early return of some families, and the addition of old friends touring the neighbourhood, Haruka had his fair share of riding, shooting, and fishing while his dearest companions were engaged elsewhere.

* * *

To amuse himself with others in the Tachibanas’ absence was no particular evil to the improved Haruka; but it was still in the absence of his lovers that he did at last suffer an evil that, had he not been hardened a little by two years’ travels, might have cost him dearly.

One fine day in early April, which saw his friends gone from the parsonage with the promise of being at home again by dinner, left Haruka to occupy himself as best he could until their return. Lured by a pleasant breeze, he spent the better part of the morning outdoors, walking and sketching a few landscapes that, on another day, he might turn into watercolours for the others’ amusement. He returned to Hurstbrook Park at lunch time, and as the weather turned a few degrees warmer, he asked for his horse, and cantered around the park. He soon became hot and fagged from riding so much in the sun, and at last stopped by the bend of the river; where, fancying himself strong enough, and having been deprived of the pleasure of swimming for above half a year, he reasoned himself all too easily into taking a quick dip to cool off. He shed his clothes and dived in; immediately realized the water was much too cold for the purpose; but having no Makoto to persuade him out of his plan at once, Haruka took a few turns in the river, in the hopes that exposure might make the temperature seem more bearable. In these hopes, he was disappointed, and at last gave up on swimming; but by the time he clambered out of the water and onto the bank, clouds had swarmed over the blue pastures above, and the wind picked up with unprecedented force.

Assuming himself closer to the parsonage than to the great house, Haruka dressed himself with chattering teeth, then turned his horse towards Whitefield; and was still at a distance when Makoto came hurrying towards him, having spotted him from the road.

He found Haruka pale and shivering in the saddle, just barely upright as if he were ready to faint from it at any moment, and one might well imagine the horror with which Makoto beheld his wet hair and blotched cheeks, which told an all too familiar story.

“ _Haruka…!_ ” he cried, taking the reins that had since begun to slip from his friend’s grasp. “What on earth—! No, no, don’t speak. Hold on.. I shall lead you…”

With great pains, Makoto at last guided the horse towards the parsonage; and the very moment a servant came forth at Chigusa’s request, who had noticed her husband run off in a way that gave her alarm, Makoto bid him take care of the noble steed, and pulled Haruka into his arms. By the time he reached the house, Chigusa was in the door, staring at both in dreadful apprehension. Her husband, nearly out of his wits! And their dear friend, looking more dead than alive in his arms!

Feeling all too keenly that he had not a moment to lose, Makoto carried Haruka upstairs to an unused guest chamber, where he was undressed with urgent tenderness, and laid carefully into bed. Chigusa, who was waiting by the door, startled at her husband’s leaving the room so soon.

“Stay with him,” he told her, now as pale as the sufferer himself. “I’ll fetch a doctor.”

In another moment, he was gone from the house, so Chigusa took his place, and upon feeling Haruka’s forehead, her eyes went wide in shock.

“You are burning up!” she breathed, turning out of the room. “Sato! _Sato!_ ” she cried for the maid. “Bring a basin of cold water and a cloth! _Hurry!_ ”

Their maid, a steady, dependable girl, quickly produced the articles requested, then helped her mistress cool Haruka’s feverish forehead until Makoto’s return. He brought with him a retired army surgeon from the village, Doctor Yamazaki Sousuke, who examined the patient, listened to his lungs and heart, and determined at last that Haruka was not beyond salvation, but at present much too ill to be moved.

“The next seven days will be decisive,” he warned the Tachibanas on his way to the door. “If he lives that long, you may expect a complete recovery in time.”

“What may we give him?” inquired Chigusa, anxious to send orders to her cook.

“Water,” replied Yamazaki. “And keep him warm.”

“We are infinitely obliged to you,” spoke Makoto at last. Doctor Yamazaki nodded, and was gone.

* * *

That week saw the parsonage, once a bastion of peace and comfort, thrown into complete turmoil. Makoto could thankfully prevail on his family to take care of any errands connected with Hurstbrook Park, which relieved him from having to manage everything himself; but it was little consolation, when Haruka’s illness engrossed everyone so completely. In his place, Makoto’s mother wrote to the Nanases in Bath to inform them of their son’s illness, and to reassure them at once of his being taken good care of, for their hasty removal from abroad and present return to the estates would have been of no use to anyone. Their duty to the elders thus satisfied, Makoto’s father sent for Haruka’s clothes, to be delivered to Whitefield directly, then talked to the groom so that the poor, confused steed could be fetched from the Whitefield Post, and taken back to the stables at Hurstbrook Park. Meanwhile, at the parsonage, Makoto scarcely left the guest chamber, now Haruka’s sick room, unless some unpostponable duty forced him out of doors; while Chigusa paced the house with instructions to her servants and cook, procured medicines and cordials from the village, and saw to it that her husband would not forget himself entirely in his efforts to provide for Haruka. Many a time she found him passed out by the bedside after a hard night’s vigil, but Makoto could not be persuaded to move away, or to regard his own troubles as anything, while the condition of his friend was so severe. Haruka was often delirious with fever, or seized by fierce coughing fits, and took up every moment of their time; the idea of leaving his side unnecessarily, and perhaps finding him worse upon returning, would have been too much for Makoto to bear. He resolved to stay so he could watch over Haruka, tend to his fever, give him water, and carry him to and from his baths. In return, Chigusa ordered all their meals upstairs, to be eaten at the small table in the sick room, and sometimes fell asleep on a chair herself.

At last the seven days were up, and though Haruka saw the end of them with a waxy complexion, loss of fortitude, and all his ribs showing, Doctor Yamazaki reassured the Tachibanas that the greatest danger was over. Their swiftness in discovering him, and their vigilance in the sick room saved him from consumption; now the time had come to nurse him back to health and strength.

“Should his fever return, call for me at once,” he told Chigusa and Makoto in the door, “but you need not fear it, unless he’s exposed to a chill again. You might want to air out his room; it would do him good, but remove him to another part of the house while you do.”

“Thank you. We shall,” answered Makoto, whose face looked little better than the patient’s after tending to him for so long. Chigusa could well guess Doctor Yamazaki’s thoughts when he stared at her husband for a long moment, then turned away and said,

“Take care, madam, that I have only one patient to come back to, instead of two.”

Makoto’s confused _Eh? Are you unwell, my dear?_ to Chigusa completed the joke, and she could just barely stifle her laughter, while Doctor Yamazaki shook his head with a sigh, then went on his way.

* * *

Eager to obey the doctor’s orders, Makoto proceeded to the sick room at once, where Haruka had just opened his eyes, and could now behold his visitor with more clarity of mind than he had in the past several days. During his most critical period, Haruka had about as much sleep as Makoto, who was at this time no fair measure of a good night’s rest; but last night, he slept peacefully, which restored some freshness of mind that had been previously wanting. He now found himself properly awake, instead of drifting on the margins of consciousness; became aware of the stiffness of his joints, and even suffered the first pains of hunger, accompanied by the strange conviction that he was heartily sick of toast and broth, without any recollection of having taken either.

“Makoto..?” he mumbled as the other drew near, making a poor attempt to rise from his pillows. Makoto shook his head with tender looks, but instead of detaining the invalid, he proceeded to untangle Haruka from his duvets.

“Good morning,” he said softly, gathering his friend in his arms. “I’ll take you to our room for now.”

“Makoto… I’m not an infant,” muttered Haruka, to feel Makoto’s chest rumble as he laughed for the first time in a long while.

“I have been carrying you like this for a week. It’s a little late to complain now, don’t you think?” replied Makoto, hugging him close.

“ _A week..?_ ” blurted Haruka, now in confusion and alarm. “Has it really been a week..?”

Makoto hummed. To owe the truth, he could hardly believe it himself.

“You’ve been very ill,” he explained, his lips briefly pressed to Haruka’s temple as he turned around to carry him away. “But you will soon be fine.”

* * *

Haruka could not yet share Makoto’s confidence on the subject of a speedy recovery; he had known himself, from bouts of illness in his childhood, to be a tenacious sufferer. And yet having fallen into such kind hands as he did, and with a disposition that had changed with age, he now found some delights in his discomfort that he had never known as a young boy. While Chigusa and the maid were opening windows, changing Haruka’s bed-linen, and drawing a bath for him, Haruka and Makoto confined themselves to the Tachibanas’ bed chamber, where Makoto laid his friend onto the bed, and after some inquiries into his current condition, kindly offered to rub him down to soothe his aching muscles and restore his circulation.

The idea was not exactly novel, as Haruka had received plenty of rubs and massages in his time, to warm him up for swimming, and to relax him after it; but the sensation Makoto’s touch excited on this occasion was entirely new. The removal of his nightgown alone, being done so tenderly upon the bed of Makoto’s private chamber, caused butterflies to stir in his stomach; but the air of innocence and profound affection with which he was freed from his clothing, then arranged to lie on his stomach, sent all his senses into glorious disarray. Large, warm hands were upon his back in a minute, kneading his shoulders in fond familiarity of all its grooves and knots, and all Haruka could do was bury his flushed face in the sheets. To lie on Makoto’s bed in a state of undress! By his own hands, his own design! It made Haruka all too conscious of his pallid skin and the stale stench of illness clinging to his every pore, only to be reassured, by the steadiness of the other’s ministrations, that none of these defects could offend one so deeply attached.

“How does this feel, Haruka?” came that beloved voice from above, while the hands below rubbed away in delightful abandon. Haruka closed his eyes. To overwhelm him so soon! _Good God, Makoto!_

“You are too rough with me,” he mumbled into the duvets, hoping his voice would not betray him. “ _I am ill_ , you know...”

“Yes, from swimming in the river in early April..! I still cannot believe you could do such a thing…” grumbled Makoto, whose hands softened considerably after Haruka’s complaint. But oh, sweet miscalculation: the lightness of their touch, far from soothing Haruka, now sent him squirming as Makoto worked his way down to the small of his back, then cupped his left thigh to knead his muscles into tolerable firmness.

“You had several days to convince yourself already,” replied Haruka, his cheeks blooming. “Was it not enough?”

He could have sworn he heard Makoto laugh, or smother laughter, which caused him at last to turn his head and face him. Their eyes met. Makoto seemed equally flushed.

“Well, I daresay you will survive, if you are in a mood to jest,” he managed to say, his eyes occasionally flitting to the slender, shapely limb in his care. Haruka tried for a smile, and pale though he was, he had never appeared so becoming to Makoto as he did with that soft, artless smile.

“I’m in the Tachibanas’ hands,” he said, no longer so tremulous. “It would be a wonder if I did not survive in such capable hands.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” replied Makoto, his heart threatening to burst. He felt Chigusa included, most warmly included in the praise, just as Haruka had intended. Such gratitude could not but move and please Makoto to the extreme, for she had done so much; and it was in that moment that Haruka finally understood what the lady herself meant when she wanted to admire the amorous glow of Makoto’s face. If only she were here now, to see it so radiant, so connected to herself! Well, Haruka must recreate that brilliance of obvious pleasure for her another time.

“Part of me almost wishes I would always be so weak, that I might stay longer,” spoke Haruka next, no longer bothering to check his tongue.

“Haruka..!” cried Makoto at once, suddenly all fond exasperation. “Do not trifle with me, here! As if you needed to be ill to spend time with us..!”

“Oh, but I _do_ have to be ill, to be nursed so tenderly,” was Haruka’s counter. Makoto sealed his checkmate with a blush.

“Does it feel good?” he asked next, evidently anxious for the other’s answer. Haruka buried his face in the sheets again.

“If this were my last hour, I would die happy.”

“Will you stop with all this nonsense about illness and dying!” cried Makoto again, now more vexed than anything, and curing Haruka at last of all his flutters. _Good._ He could finally enjoy his rub down in greater composure, now that Makoto had come so undone.

“Fine, fine. I’ll live, and take a bath, if it please you,” he said calmly. Makoto hummed.

“You shall have one soon. You may depend upon that,” he replied, no longer so vexed, and pacified completely by the time he had massaged the right leg, too.

If only the same could be said for Haruka; but alas, the moment his right foot was released, and the rub down was over, he might have given up his bath to have this pleasure repeated.

* * *

Haruka soon found ample consolation in being carried to a hot bath, and what came after it. Though he had a great dislike for heat in general, to have his back washed, and be allowed to soak so comfortably, were delights to be savoured after knowing nothing but a sturdy mattress and heavy layers of duvets for a week. He no longer complained; nor could he bring himself to raise any objections when Makoto at last persuaded him out of the water, and rubbed him dry, in sober reflection of how his recovery would soon put an end to all these little intimacies.

To engage his mind more agreeably, Haruka soon turned his thoughts to the prospect of smoked mackerel, for he was ready to be weaned onto all his favourite dishes in moderation; and after some consideration, dropped a subtle hint that it would please him to hear the harp after his meal. A brief discussion ensued over whether he should be carried downstairs, or the harp upstairs; but knowing Makoto, and how his clumsiness might cost the lady her beloved instrument, Haruka determined he should be the one going, and was carried with great care into the drawing-room. There, seated by the fire, he had an agreeable luncheon, and a modest concert put on by Chigusa for his amusement; and he would have gladly stayed, had sitting not fatigued him so much, and the recent draughts downstairs produced a minor chill.

At the slightest hint of his being cold, Makoto transferred him to the sick room at once, where the flowery scent of fresh bed-linen made Haruka all the more grateful to the lady of the house. He was quite willing to rest now, but lying flat on his back suddenly produced a wicked cough, sending tremors down Haruka’s chest. Makoto quickly poured him a glass of water, lifting it to his friend’s lips.

“Here,” he said quietly, slipping it into Haruka’s hand, who took a few languid sips, then sank into his duvets, still shivering.

“Is there anything I can bring you? Anything I can do?” pressed Makoto, his brows knit pitifully in alarm. Haruka tried for a smile, but it was faint and worn.

“I feel so cold,” was all he could say. Makoto reached for his hand under the duvets, to find it like a lump of ice against his palm.

“Haruka, you’re freezing!” he cried, his eyes darting to the door, as if bent on going to the doctor; but Haruka forestalled him.

“Makoto…”

His friend turned back to him at once. Haruka, now in desperate need of him, could not even blush for himself.

“Will you lie with me? You felt so warm.”

Being so tenderly entreated, Makoto had no choice but to yield. He removed his coat and vest at once, stopping only to reminisce about the many nights they had spent in the enormous beds of Hurstbrook Park as boys, then lifted the duvets just enough to drape himself on the bed by Haruka’s left side, gathering his friend into his arms. Even through his clothing, he could feel that thin body shiver, then relax as his heat enveloped Haruka.

“Is this alright?” whispered Makoto. His hands, unbidden, began to rub Haruka’s back over the nightgown, delightfully dry and warm against his cold, clammy skin. Haruka nodded.

“You have always been so warm,” he mumbled, eyes closing in relief.

“Don’t speak. Save your strength.”

“I’m not an infant..”

“I’m pleading you as one of the dearest objects I have on earth. I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”

“Then hold me for a while,” whispered Haruka in his embrace, fancying himself a little better already. The hands on his back continued to rub, then to caress, until there was silence, and at last, darkness.

* * *

Haruka stirred some hours later, to notice several changes in their previous arrangement. One was that he now lay somewhat on his back, for Makoto, who often tossed and turned in his sleep, had slumped forward till he was now half on top of Haruka, with one arm still wrapped around his friend; and the other, far more pressing, was that they were no longer alone. At some point, Chigusa had entered the room, and at present lay to Haruka’s right in her nightgown, one arm draped over her husband’s, and the other curled behind Haruka’s head, her fingers buried in his hair. Haruka’s heart jolted, whether in joy or nerves, he could not tell; and upon inclining his head slightly to the right, it stopped at the sight of her still awake, and smiling at him so fondly.

“Do I disturb you?” she whispered, not having the heart to wake her husband by talking any louder. Haruka swallowed. Those delicate fingers now sprung alive and teased his locks, producing a soft tingle over his scalp.

“No…” he breathed, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve been asleep.”

“So is _he_ still,” she remarked, glancing over to Makoto. “He dared not close his eyes while you were in danger.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Haruka, but she shook her head with a smile.

“Don’t be - it is his way. He has hunched over me with the same vigilance from time to time. I know very well that he cannot be persuaded to leave, while his loved ones are ill.”

“He is too good. Much too good.”

“We’re very fortunate, are we not?”

“I shall always think you more fortunate, for having my father and the law on your side,” owed Haruka, only half surprised at how relaxed he felt in her presence, “but I should be happy to be held like this for a while.”

“Then you shall, Nanase-san.”

“Haruka.”

She blinked. He flushed again.

“When amongst ourselves, call me Haruka. And I shall call you Chigusa, if it please you.”

“Haruka,” she repeated after him, as if sampling his name on her tongue. It rang so sweetly from her lips that he could not help but squirm a little between her and Makoto. She giggled.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked next, nestling a little closer till he could feel the warm pressure of her thigh against his, and the supple yield of her breasts by his arm. He tilted his head back, almost too glad, and unable to bear it.

“This… might be the happiest I’ve ever been,” he breathed at last. She grinned.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

There was a pause, a light, comfortable pause.

“Shall you want anything more to-night?” asked Chigusa next with kind concern. Haruka glanced to his left, where Makoto was still asleep, his features relaxed in bliss immeasurable. After a moment, Haruka shook his head.

“I should not like to disturb him,” he replied, looking at her again. “Nor am I strong enough yet. Sleep might be for the best. ...Will you stay?”

There was entreaty in his voice, which Chigusa acknowledged with a blush. No union of theirs had ever occasioned such a question; and so she never knew how much she had craved it.

“I will,” she replied at last, then leaned close to plant what would be their first kiss on Haruka’s brow.

His lips quivered. With a little effort, they touched her cheek, then Makoto’s jaw, the only part of him Haruka could reach with ease. A moment later, Chigusa stirred again, just enough to lift her hand from Makoto’s arm, caress his cheek, then rest her hand again.

“I already kissed him good night when I came in,” she explained, her words followed by a yawn barely suppressed. “Sleep well, my dears.”

“Sleep well,” murmured Haruka, and in a moment that came all too soon, he drifted off to sleep, fancying himself the happiest man that had ever lived.


	4. Epilogue

One could well imagine what happy alterations that last scene had made in the intimate conduct of the lovers. For as long as Haruka remained at the parsonage, they made excellent use of his recovery, and learned how to kiss, embrace, and give comfort, with a delicacy and modesty that gratified the mellow clergyman, satisfied the modest gentleman, and pleased their amorous lady. With Haruka soon restored to health, and his parents eventually returning to Hurstbrook Park, these pleasures were, of course, a little suspended; but while each awaited another reunion with variable patience, some happy effects naturally lingered. Makoto, having tasted a new sort of intimacy, and bestowed some tenderness on Haruka, could now be persuaded to savour these delights without guilt, and make love to his wife as often as she wished; and within seven years, Chigusa gave him four children, all of them their darlings.

Haruka became the godfather of the eldest and the youngest Tachibana children, having been forced to share the privilege of spiritual guardianship with Makoto’s siblings as soon as both were of age; and did his duty by his godchildren admirably, and alone. To the mortification of his parents, Haruka continued a contented bachelor “despite his friend’s admirable example,” until his mother hazarded to say to her husband one night that Makoto’s happiness might have truly been the height of Haruka’s ambition, if he could not be tempted to aspire to anything else. Presented with such a plausible explanation, Nanase-sama’s former pride and vexation eventually simmered into regret, then into guilt. After a while, he might have even been glad of Tachibana Ren inheriting the estates, and Tachibana Ran a large fortune, could the gears of time be persuaded to turn backwards for his sake. As time remained an inexorable mistress, however, the father was forced to find comfort in his son’s forgiveness, so honourably bestowed in due course that Nanase-sama felt quite unequal to it when he at last received it.

And so everyone lived happily ever after, though their happiness could never be measured to the secret pleasures of the three lovers, who continued to be each other’s joy and comfort, forever under the aegis of Tachibana Chigusa.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of an experiment that I greatly enjoyed, and I hope you did, too. Comments and kudos would be very welcome, and much appreciated! Writing is a pleasure, but to be told that it made someone happy is everything once the pleasure of writing is gone.


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